Ropes

By Gaspard

 

The crowds were suddenly sent into uproar as the blinding lights behind the smokey stage turned from a pale green, to a violent red. This signalled the beginning of one of their greatest hits. A huge song that symbolised rebellion and freedom, the time to stand up for yourself and break away from anything or anyone holding you back. The lead guitar began to strum, viciously as if it were some kind of aggravated animal. Low at first, and then higher, getting even higher to repeat itself, singing with the crowds who screamed in response to the song that brought them together. The song that made up their minds. The song that made them shiver.

Heads already began to shake and arms shot into the air like weaponry. The tasselled hair, lead singer lowered his head to watch his guitar, as he finished the quick introduction. The buzz in his veins had begun, and the type of insane explosive that sends Craig Nicholls into fits of rebellion had been struck with a deadly match. “I wanna get freeee! I wanna get freee! I wanna get freeee ride into tha soooon!”

He spat like a venomous snake, his shoulders hunched gently as he closed his eyes and screamed into the air, as if expelling some kind of demon from inside of him. Smoke curled around him, wrapping around his feet and legs as it rolled against the violent crowds. And amongst all of them, standing far behind with a cigarette dangling from his lips, was Julian Casablancas.

He narrowed his eyes, behind thick sunglasses, and removed the cigarette from his lips. With that movement, he’d taken a drag, a thick clump of grey popping out of his mouth to slip inside his throat. Like a dragon, two long shoots of smoke shot through his nostrils as he watched the boy on stage; roll around with his feet in the air.

The gig was over, and Brixton Academy was emptied. The smoke had cleared and the dust had settled. And the Vines were returning to the hotel they’d been shipped to whilst over in the U.K. Ryan was first to exit the large black van, followed by Hamish, then Craig and then Patrick. Craig smoked a cigarette, which was already down to the butt. He flicked it aside, watching it bounce against the pavement in a flicker of orange and red. He blew smoke in Ryan’s face as he passed him, with a giggle. Ryan coughed and waved the smoke from his mouth, gently tapping the back of Craig’s head as he walked past and headed into the hotel.

Craig was the first to depart to bed. His head felt full, full of the noise he’d been making tonight. Full of the heat, and the steam. Lighting another cigarette (which he didn’t know you weren’t allowed to do inside the hotel), he gently walked along the halls, keeping to the side, his shoulder gently bumping against the wall every now and again. His head was lowered, watching his feet press against the carpet. He was a few doors down, his hands in his pockets, fiddling for his key card, as his cigarette remained on his lips.

He fished for it, and found it. As he looked up, Julian stood at the front of his door, with folded arms.

“.. Oom, your that guy from the Strokes,” said Craig, as he stepped back gently and pointed cautiously at Julian.

“Yeah. And, your that guy from the Vines,” replied Julian, with a grin.
Craig found the meeting strange. He remained staring at Julian, the cigarette still burning on his lips. Julian pinched the cigarette from Craig’s mouth, and smoked it for him.
“What, are you star struck or something?” He asked, with a chuckle.
Craig licked his lips, and shrugged. “What do you want?” He moved around him, to get inside his room. He struggled with the key card. It bleeped at him a few times before, causing Craig to kick the door instead and then try it again with success.
He slipped in, and Julian followed. Or at least, attempted to. Craig turned to block him out.

“I came here to uh, to talk with you. I was at your gig tonight. You were pretty good.. “
Craig’s stern face broke. He smiled, gently. As he goes to say something, Julian continues, “.. but we’re better.”

Craig’s face flops back into the tired expression it once was. “Oom,” he chuckled gently, lowering his head, “yeah? Is that right?”
Julian nodded, with a smirk. “Can I come in? I mean, there’s this thing I need to tell you.”
Craig shrugged. “Whatever.”
He slipped past the door, and let Julian in. The room was clean, spotless, actually. But it was only their first night here.
“Very rock star of you. Where’s the feather duster?” Asked Julian, as he flopped down onto the bed and finished the cigarette, stubbing it out on the headboard.

Craig fished for another cigarette, removing his little leather brown jacket and finding a pack of 20 inside. He popped one into his mouth, and then struggled for a lighter, until someone threw one at his head.
Craig frowned, watching the lighter bounce onto the floor. He bent down and picked it up, lighting his cigarette. He then walked to the window, and opened it up.
Craig dropped the lighter from the window, watching it plummet down to the street.

Julian grinned. “Wow, you really are weird. See, everyone reads NME.”
Craig took a drag on the cigarette. “Oom, look. Oom .. I’m ..kinda tired. Can we just talk about whatever .. whatever it is you.. “

Julian continued to listen, listen to the rambling that was supposed to be the calm version of what Craig is really like. The sometimes confusing mumbling of a distant soon-to-be lost talent.

” .. Were gonna say. Yeah. Uhm, basically.. ” Julian sat up from the bed; “I came to discuss how better we are then you. How many more albums the Strokes have sold than the Vines, and st.. ” he goes to continue, but Craig pushes him hard on the shoulder.

“Fock off!” He shouts, the cigarette bouncing on his lips. “Get out of my hotel! I don’t fockin’ wanna talk about fockin’ competitions n’ stuff!”

Julian laughed, a little taken back by the push. Strong for a little guy.
“No, I wont ‘fock off’. I came here to discuss it all. I mean, look. Two years into it, and I’m on the floor. My feet firmly on the ground,” explains Julian, as he lies back down on the bed. Craig paces about, growing frustrated. Julian continues. “I mean, look at you. All those bruises on your arms n’ neck. From rolling around on the floor? And you fuckin’ screwed at the McDonalds guy the other day because of the wrong order? That shit takes a while to clean up, once it’s… I dunno, thrown all over the floor?”

Craig frowns, “how do you know about that?”

Julian arches a brow, and grins. “Like I said. I read NME.”

Craig sighs. “I can take this. I’m alright with it, y’know ..” he mumbles something incoherent, and then finishes his cigarette. He stubs it out on the wall, and it drops dead and stale at his feet. The mumbling continues.

“What?” Asks Julian.

Craig looks up. “Huh?”

Julian frowns. “Okay.” He pauses, and then begins to eye the palms of his hands, scratching at any dead skin. “I bet you two hundred bucks, that in three months, you’ll be in hospital. Because of your tantrums, or made behaviour.”

Craig’s face is blank. His cheeks a little flushed. “Fock off.”

Julian laughs. At his accent, at everything. “You can’t even make a bet, let stand around long enough in the music industry. I bet you couldn’t even stand long enough in the ropes.”

Craig lifts an eyebrow, as he begins to scratch and toy with his hair. “The ropes?” He asks.

Julian nods. “Yeah.”

Craig frowns. He pretends to know what they are, nodding. Then he looks at Julian with a frown. “What are the ropes?”

Julian smirks. “Have you got any ropes here? Like, wires or something?”

Craig nods. He walks around for a few minutes, his mind mapping out where things are. He approaches a large black bag under the bed, and takes it out. Lots of spare wires that belong to Hammish, taped together with some plugging at the end. He hands them to Julian.

Julian removes the tape, and looks at the wire. “This’ll do fine. Okay, hands behind your back.”

Craig goes to do so, but everything clicks on and he turns around to face Julian. Julian’s a little taller than Craig, so Craig instead has to look up. “Hey. Your gunner tie me up? Oom, I don’t know .. “

Julian frowns. “It’s all part of it. If you can do this, you can stay in the music industry.” He smirked deep down, inside that black heart of his. Sucker.

Craig remained looking at Julian. “‘Kay.”

He turned, and placed his hands behind his back. Using one of the wires, Julian began to tie Craig’s hands, wrapping the remaining length around his waist and then tying it tight back around his back. Julian stepped back. “Okay. Lay on the bed ..”

Craig walked to the bed, sat down, and then lay back. He stared up at Julian, smirking gently. Julian smirked back. His hard on throbbed under his leather pants, and if Craig were good at noticing things like that, well, he would’ve noticed. Craig shuffled around uncomfortably, as Julian looked at his watch. “Okay, escape from that in less than a minute. The way you’re tied, well – it’s possible. Time starts ..”

“Wait! What if I can’t?” asked Craig, frowning.

Julian shrugged. “Then you’re stuck like it forever.” He smirked, and sat down on the floor. He looked back at his watch, and waited for the second hand to reach 12. “Go!”

He watched Craig squirm under the wire, moaning and grunting as he attempted to escape his bonds. Truth was, the way the wires were tied actually meant that they were inescapable. Julian had been watching Craig for a while, and if he was going to get what he wanted from him, this would be the safest and most polite way to get it – for the both of them.

Twenty seconds had passed, and Craig had tried everything. His hands were sore, and he was proving unsuccessful. He had now creased the bed sheets, and grown a deep shade of red. From embarrassment.

Julian let the ‘joke’ pass, and went to the table, where a set of printed flyers rest, under a black marker and a pair of scissors. Julian picked up the scissors, as as Julian’s watch bleeped; he smirked and sat next to Craig on the bed. “You failed, buddy.”

Craig moaned. “That’s fockin’ unfair!”

Julian rolled his eyes, and watched as Craig cursed and began to roll around. He kicked his feet, just missing Julian’s face. Julian grabbed at Craig’s ankles, and held them under his arm. Might as well begin here.

Using the scissors, he cut the laces to Craig’s Van trainers. Craig stared at the ceiling, catching his breath, unaware of what was happening until he felt his left shoe slip from his foot. His foot pushed down, trying to keep the shoe on.

“What the fock? Julian, you fockin’…” he mumbled something else, and tried to pull his feet back in, as he shoes were removed. But Julian had a tight hold on Craig’s legs, keeping them both tucked under his left armpit. Julian throbbed with anticipation, as he let his favourite fetish loose. He watched Craig’s feet rest on his lap, as Craig mumbled and groaned with frustration. Julian held onto Craig’s left socked foot, and bought it to his nose, gently smelling what was underneath. Craig’s foot suddenly shifted and squirmed at the sniffing sensation around his toes.

“Your feet stink, Nicholls.. ” said Julian. “.. And I like it.”

Craig frowned and then let his mouth drop, as Julian Casablancas began to sniff and smell the soles of both of Craig’s feet. Craig’s toes clenched as he sniffed under them, the tastle haired rock star began to clench his fists too and pull at his bonds harder. “Fock off, Julian! What the fock! Get off, that fockin’ feels.. Weird.. Ugh! Man!”

Julian grinned, and continued against Craig’s protesting. And then he did something he’d wanted to do for a while. He took Craig’s right foot and held it securely, whilst, with his left hand, he began to draw S shapes against Craig’s sole.

Craig groaned, as his feet flexed, thinking the tickle was accidental. It surely was not, and the tickle continued. The reaction was marvellous! Craig immediately shrieked, and began to pull and kick. “Get the fock OFF! Leave me alone!” He ranted and cursed, “What the fock are you doing? That fockin tickles!”

Julian scratched and scribbled at the arch of Craig’s right sole, as Mr. Nicholls bounced around on the bed, arching his back and shouting into the pillows. His cursing and confusion faded away, as he let himself laugh and giggle. His ‘laughs and giggles’ soon ran into one, and they became frequent and often, usually causing Craig to be out of breathe. This made Craig realise that there was a problem. He hated being tickled for this long, it was torturous. His feet were sensitive; foot massages were sometimes a little hard to deal with. And now he had both feet tucked under another rock stars armpit, being tickled mercilessly. Craig bent his knees violently, his toes scrunched up to avoid the tickling sensations being scratched into his soles. Such a sensation would usually cause his toes to spread out again and for Craig to now scream for help.

Julian grabbed the toes of Craig’s socks and yanked them from his feet, causing them to now be naked and even more ticklish, probably. Julian took one of the socks and shoved it into Craig’s mouth, muffling the calls for help.

He then sat back down by Craig’s feet, which were frantically kicking around and pressing against the bed to hide his sensitive soles. Julian simply grabbed Craig’s left ankle and held it up to his head, darting his fingers up and down the sole, causing Craig to arch his back and clench his teeth against the gag.

Julian was going to have a lot of fun. And it had only just begun.

Part 2

Craig’s feet were now bare, and thus far more sensitive. He had always been ticklish, but he’d never known his ‘spot’. The spot that gets you every time, without fail. The spot that actually hurts after a while if it’s tickled long enough. Craig’s spot were his feet. His feet were now, insanely ticklish. He never knew that it would or could ever feel like this. So horrible, so unbearable. “You’re hurting me”, “get off you weirdo mother fucker” and “STOOOPP” were all heard behind the black sock in Craig’s mouth, muffled, incoherent words that Julian could expectedly make out.

Gosh, this was better than tickling Nick. And boy, was he ticklish. Julian had once tickled him for a full three hours, and Nick ended up wetting himself all over the motel bed. Nick was caught up in the same situation as Craig. They were drunk; Julian had tied Nick’s hands behind his back whilst he’d passed out after too much vodka red bull mixed with wine. When he awoke, his shoes were missing, and Julian had a long pink feather in his hand. The rest is history.

Julian held one of Craig’s feet, his left, under his left armpit. He dragged his fingers up and down the sole, scratching at his arch and under his squirming toes. His foot flexed forwards and backwards, anytime a finger pressed in one spot, his foot and toes would clench and flex back, and then the finger would glide down and the foot would point forwards, wiggling at Julian’s side, causing Mr. Casablanca’s to smirk, as the muffling and giggles erupted from behind Craig’s gag.

Julian turned to look at Craig. “What’s that, Nicholls? You want me to stop? Not a chance.. ” he tormented, as Craig screamed through the gag again, getting angry now. His free foot pushed against Julian’s back, pressing at the leather of his jacket. Sometimes kicking forcefully at his head to release his ticklish foot. But this only fuelled Julian’s fire, as he closed his eyes tight and embraced the kicks at the back of his head, keeping Craig’s left foot in his grip, and his fingers scratching on that hyper sensitive sole.

It wasn’t until the kicking got vicious and repetitive that Julian let Craig’s left foot slip from under his armpit. He watched Craig’s fierce eyes and flushed cheeks burn, as he pulled at the tight bonds behind his back. He was shouting something muffled from behind the gag, something so angry even Julian couldn’t make it out. Craig was hot, he was sweating. Julian smiled.

He reached down to attempt to grab Craig’s right foot, the foot that had been kicking and trying to push Julian from him. Craig kicked the foot at Julian’s face, hitting his mouth. A slight rip of his lip, as he staggered back and held his jaw.

He stared down at the palm of his hand, and saw a small smear of blood. He glared at Craig, who was now squirming at his bonds like no tomorrow, muffling through the gag, “Don fffuuckin tiggle meeef, you ffuckin assbard!”

Julian smeared the blood from his lip, licking it clean, like some desperate predator. He walked to Craig’s legs, and Craig began bucking and kicking, bouncing over the bed like some hyper active toy. Julian actually had to step back. Craig was desperate to keep Julian away from him.

He stopped bouncing soon enough, and had actually bounced to the edge of the bed. He now used his feet to walk, padding around the room. The gag was shoved far in his mouth, and Craig felt like gagging it out, or swallowing it. But both actions were impossible, it was there to stay. So his mouthing off and cursing, his threats and warnings, were unheard and translated into nothing but muffled groans and a red face. Craig, hands still tied, backed off against the wall and continued to muffle and shout. Julian folded his arms.

“Look, I can’t understand you. It’s useless.”

Craig was edging towards the door, and Julian had noticed. Julian ran up to Craig and tackled him to the floor. With a number of thuds, they bounced and rolled against the carpet. Craig kicked his legs frantically, and Julian squirmed down and held onto his ankles. He dragged the bucking boy back to the bed.

Craig shouted and muffled, as he was dragged against the floor. Julian lifted up Craig’s right foot, and placed it on the bed. He sat on his ankle.

Craig was now lying on the carpet floor, against the side of the bed, with one foot propped onto the mattress. It was trapped by the body weight of Julian, who sat with the ticklish right foot in-between his legs.

“This little bastard deserves some attention, after it spent the last 15 minutes kicking me in the spine.. ” he said, turning to Craig with a grin. Craig looked violently angry, a stern frown on his face as he muffled through the gag and shook his head. His face was a deep shade of red, lines of drool hanging out the corners of his mouth. Suddenly, he groaned in torment as he felt the finger nails drag down his sole. It was slow, it was horrible. Before, it was fast. Quick fingers darting around and tickling him like crazy. But this was actually worse. Julian was actually dragging his index finger up and down Craig’s foot, which was hysterically painful. The finger would drag down the skin under Craig’s toes, causing them to scrunch as he screamed through the gag. Then the finger would glide all the way down, over Craig’s arch, the ticklish spot of his ticklish foot. This caused Craig to squeal, trying to bend his leg, his toes now automatically spreading like stretching worms. This action was repeated a good few hundred times. Craig arched his back, yelled and moaned, shouted and screamed. But not once did he laugh. A first, it was funny. A quick tickle, haha Julian, stop! Now it was pain, it was torture. Julian found this sexual, he grinded his open legs against Craig’s flexing foot as he tickled it with his fingers. Craig was loosing it, straining so violently against the bonds and moaning uncontrollably, that he thought he might die. But as Julian lifted his crotch up just a little, Craig slipped his foot free, snatching it back.

Unfortunately, Julian was quicker. He grabbed Craig’s big toe, and pulled his foot back in with all his strength. He sat on it, leaned back, and grabbed Craig’s other foot. Craig pulled his foot away, or at least attempted to, his weak legs squirming and yanking from Julian’s grasp. But Julian was an expert with this. He tucked both feet under his crotch, and let his fingers rest on Craig’s ankles. Craig was silent, all except the sound of him catching his breath or struggling in the bonds. His muffles were hoarse, he was losing his voice. His voice didn’t even become a tiny bit croaky at shows, when he’d be screaming as loud as he can during songs like Get Free or Outtathaway. Now it was croaked and dry, he felt tired and unwell. His feet felt itchy, and his knees weak. And he had a huge hard on.

Julian gently smoothed Craig’s ankles, Julian’s fingers gently caressing the top of Craig’s feet. Every time his fingers would reach Craig’s toes, his toes would clench like a tight fists ready for action. And then they’d rest as Julian’s fingers slid back to Craig’s ankles.
Suddenly Craig jolted in a ticklish spasm as scratching fingernails attacked the underneaths of his toes. He moaned through the gag violently as he kicked his feet in attempt to stop Julian’s torment. Julian laughed, buzzing at the power. He frowned though, as he watched Craig’s feet stop reacting. He slid his finger gently down his left sole, and watched the foot remain still and lifeless under him. He turned to see Craig, passed out on the floor.
Excellent.

**

Craig awoke in a daze. He felt tired.
As his eyes opened, his eyelashes brushed forcefully against cloth. Tight cloth. He was blind folded.
His fingers curled around tight rope, which bound his arms above his head. He felt like he was on a bed of some kind, and that he was.
His wrists were secured to the headboard of the bed, and his feet spread either side of the bottom of the bed. They were propped up onto the banisters, and tied down, so his feet were a little in the air, and facing the rest of the room. He could slightly move his elbows, and ever so slightly arch his back
To move his knees would be almost impossible.
He moaned. This was ridiculous.
He had also been stripped down to his boxer shorts, which were now revealing a shy hard on. He wasn’t enjoying this, yet part of him didn’t want it to end. He hated the tickle torture he vaguely remembered receiving. It was unbearable, to the point where his body actually gave up on taking it any more. But the idea of being dominated, by someone who thought they were better than him, gave him the sensual agreement. It made him stand to attention, in more ways than one.

“This is more like it. This is what I’d call THE ROPES,” said a voice from within. Julian.

He walked towards Craig, but all Craig could hear were the footsteps. Clunk, clunk. Julian’s huge boots thudding against the floor as walked to the bottom of the bed. His fingers gently pushing at each of Craig’s soles. His feet shifted inwards, as Craig grinned and attempted to arch his back.
“No, no more. Please, fock. Haven’t you had enough?” Pleaded Craig. The idea of enjoying it was suddenly rubbed out. This was going to be horrible.
“No. I haven’t. I can tell by the snake in your pants that you haven’t either,” replied Julian.

Craig moaned. He arched his back some more, his pelvis flexing, his tasselled brown hair falling over his blindfold. Craig’s nerves were sticking on end. Every part of him was exposed, and it felt 100% worse thanks to the blindfold. He didn’t know where Julian was, all he could do was hear and feel him. Craig’s toes remained clenched throughout the beginning of the ordeal, awaiting any tickling sensation they may receive.
Craig felt the fingers at the soles of his feet, and immediately bucked on the bed, shouting a loud, “NO!”, but instead, the feeling didn’t spark ticklish sensations up his legs, but instead soothing, massaging kneads.
Julian was pressing baby oil into Craig’s left foot, massaging his arch and pressing his fingers into the base of his toes. Normally, Craig would even be squirming at this sort of attention to his feet, but instead this felt warm. It felt pleasurable.

And his hard on had increased.

“No.. Now what the fock are you doing? Why dontcha leave me alone? Please?” Craig bit his lower lip. Okay, it tickled a little.
“No, Craig. You take this without bursting, and you win. There will be other rewards as well.. ” Julian smirked. Bullshit.
Craig sighed. “Look. I don’t care. The Strokes are way better, t-than the Vines. ‘Kay?”
Julian chuckled gently. He remained silent, otherwise, and continued to press the thick baby oil into Craig’s left sole, massaging his arch and sliding his fingers down the sides of his feet. Craig had caught his breath, and for a moment, enjoyed the massage. Julian wanted his way with him. And Craig let it happen.

The fingers stopped their pressing, and Craig’s right foot shifted at the cold slap of more baby oil onto his sole. Julian now massaged Craig’s right foot.
“Your pretty ticklish,” said Julian.
“Your pretty focked up,” shot back Craig.
A silence, as Julian continued to massage the baby oil into Craig’s foot. Once done, he let the baby oil set. His plan had all gone so well. Now he had made Craig’s hyper ticklish feet, 100% more ticklish then they were before. The baby oil would increase the sensitivity, and instead of using fingers.. Julian would use a hairbrush.
He removed one from the drawer, a medium sized, plastic hairbrush. Plastic bristles that weren’t too thickly clumped together, but instead evenly spread and perfect for something like this. They would act like a thousand fingers, all at once.

Julian watched Craig’s bulge throb under his boxer shorts for a moment, as he gently slid the hairbrush down Craig’s right sole.
His toes curled like a fist, as his foot shifted violently to the right. So fast and hard that the bed shook and Craig had to yell loudly. “Yharrhhhhhhhhhaaaaa!”

He arched his back, and began to buck around the bed wildly as Julian tickled his foot with the hairbrush.

“WHAT THE FOCK IS THAHAHAHAHAT?!” Yelled Craig, as he laughed behind clenched teeth and shook the bed insanely. It creaked and hit against the wall. Anyone else in the next room would think something mad was going on – and they’d be right.

Julian’s other hand leaned over and scratched at Craig’s left foot, that also reacted the same way. Craig felt the pain, the terror, and the ticklishness. He bucked and yelled, spitted, cursed. The feeling was uncontrollable, and he felt like he was going to snap. His penis throbbed as his feet were tickled mercilessly. Just as he thought Julian would stop, he was proven wrong, and the fingers and brush bristles pressed into his feet a hell of a lot worse. It felt like a thousand fingers at once, it slid and scratched, circled and pressed. Every movement caused Craig to either hurl into a fit of hysterics or shout so loudly in torment that his lungs might burst.

The worst was the brush under the toes. As the brush was so stable, Craig’s toes couldn’t clench down to hide the ticklish length of them. Instead they were vulnerable and exposed, which made the entire scene a lot more terrifying.
After a good half an hour, Craig needed the toilet, and wasn’t laughing anymore. He was pulling, shifting, and arching his back. The Bed was a mess, and was creaking in a shaky state, as it shook from side to side thanks to Craig’s pulsating body. Julian stopped, and Craig caught his breath, his feet still wiggling in the air. Julian smirked, and sat on top of Craig.
His hands pressed at his stomach, sliding gently up his chest and around his neck.

His fingers slid into his armpits, and tickled at the hairy groves of the rock star’s underarms. Craig made an odd noise, like a fish gulping, and arched his back, as his exposed armpits were now treated to the same horrific torture. His arms snapped to the side and his neck strained with laughter as he screamed with a hoarse voice. “STOP! I’M GONA DIE!” Yelled Craig. “I’M PISSING MYSELF!”

Julian gasped, and turned to look at Craig’s crotch. He saw a huge boner, but no moisture. He turned to Craig, who was laughing.
“Liar.”

He snapped the blindfold from Craig’s eyes, and looked at him with a grin.
Craig stared back at him, and smirked gently. He breathed, panted. He was desperate for air. Julian leant down, and brushed his lips against Craig’s.

To Julian’s surprise, Craig shoved his tongue into Julian’s mouth, and kissed him forcefully.